


midnight midnight

by chiliscale



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Dean Winchester, Jealous John, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:49:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24723319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiliscale/pseuds/chiliscale
Summary: Dean´s honey trappin' but it´s John who gets caught.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/John Winchester, Dean Winchester/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 177





	midnight midnight

**Author's Note:**

> Damn, it´s been ages... I really, really wanted to get back into writing and decided to start out with some John/Dean!  
> It´s been fun, hope you guys enjoy this one, too <3<3
> 
> Inspired by a prompt where John makes underage!Dean hook up with older men to get some pretty blackmail pictures. Gotta earn that money somehow, right? (All the kudos to whoever had this brilliant idea! Can´t remember where I´ve seen it, but I loved it so much!)

“You even legal, kid?” The man asks and leans back against the alley wall, one perfectly manicured eyebrow raised in challenge. He´s still not touching Dean, but he´s sure as hell _watching_ , gaze all hungry and greedy, already undressing him with his eyes.

Legal or not, it´s not like it fucking matter to either of them. Dean has learned from experience that anyone asking that question is never even all that interested in hearing a truthful answer, so, “Legal enough,” is more information than most guys need, and this man is no exception.

“Good answer,” Business Guy whispers and finally leans down to cup Dean´s face with one hand, thumb slowly tracing the outline of his lips.

Dean very nearly rolls his eyes at that, but manages to turn it coy instead. Blinks up at the guy, all lashes and rosy cheeks, the very picture of shy innocence.

Dude has clearly been watching too much shitty porn, but he´s hot, at least.

Hot and goddamn loaded, if his expensive business suit is any indication. His shoes alone look like they cost more than the entire Winchester wardrobe combined.

This guy probably wipes his ass with 200 Dollar bills, and Dean is more than a little turned on by the thought of ridding him of some of that wealth. If he plays his cards right, they won´t need to worry about money for the next few months or so.

The hand on his jaw slides forward and Dean opens his mouth without hesitation, groaning when two fingers push in deep enough to make him gag.

They taste like salt and stale smoke and Dean sucks them with unabashed enthusiasm – lots of tongue, just a hint of teeth, point twelve on Cosmo´s “How to drive him wild”- list.

He´s rewarded with a heartfelt curse and a heated look, the faint squeak of leather that means that John is watching from the shadows and most likely already on the brink of losing his shit.

“Jesus, kid, your fucking _mouth_.”

There´s something akin to awe in the man´s voice, and it makes warmth pool in the pit of Dean´s stomach, makes him grab the stranger´s wrist, shove those fingers even deeper.

Dean´s eyes flick down to the man´s crotch, and Dean feels his own dick twitch when he sees the long line of the guy´s cock, thick and hard and _all because of_ _him_. He wonders if watching this is making John hard, too.

“Gonna suck it, sweetheart?”

Business Guy is staring at him, eyes glued to the way Dean´s lips stretch around his fingers, and the steel in his voice makes it clear that this is not a question. Lucky for him, Dean has always been good at following orders.

He drops to his knees with an eagerness that surprises even himself, hands at the other man´s belt before the pain of his fall even registers.

“Good boy.”

Dean shivers at the praise and his cheeks start to burn, pride and shame mingling in his guts until he can´t distinguish one from the other.

A hand slides into Dean´s hair and he lets himself be pulled, Dean´s own skinny fingers sliding down the zipper and slipping beneath the expensive fabric of the man´s slacks, and then Dean´s hand closes around the length of him, all hot, sticky skin, thick veins and coarse hair where Dean´s still soft and boy-smooth.

It´s bigger than Dean anticipated, but he´s watched enough porn to know what he´s doing, doesn´t even hesitate before he leans in and flicks his tongue right over the head.

The man grunts in approval and it´s all the encouragements Dean needs. He starts licking it in earnest – long, broad stripes from root to tip, little kitten licks around the head until he guy´s dick is shiny with spit.

Dean pulls back. Licks his lips. Takes another peak at Business Guy from beneath his lashes. The man seems transfixed, all open-mouthed adoration, and Dean smiles up at him and slowly, deliberately sucks the head of the guy´s dick into his mouth.

It´s a bit different from what Dean had expected, the weight of cock against his tongue even more intoxicating when it tastes of man instead of cheap silicone, the stretch a little wider than he´s used to, but not more than he can handle.

Dean pushes deeper, throat fluttering against the intrusion and he nearly gags himself in his eagerness. He draws back. Swallows. Spreads his legs to give his own leaking dick more room and wonders if he´ll be able to come without a hand on his cock. Highly fucking likely, if the building heat in his crotch is anything to go by.

The next slide is easier, smoother, almost all the way down. The hands in Dean´s hair tighten and the guy above him moans, low and pained, head falling back against the brick wall behind them.

Any minute now, Dean thinks, as he slowly gets a good rhythm going. He knows that the lightning in this alley is shit, that John might have to get closer to get a quality pic or two, but this lack of action is making him nervous.

John never lets things get this far. Usually, he´s be up and at the other guy´s throat before Dean even gets a good grip on the dude´s zipper.

They´re way past that now, and to his own surprise, Dean doesn´t mind it one bit. He´s always been good with his mouth and judging from the shivers that run through the guy when Dean sucks his dick just right, Dean can proudly add “giving head” to his long list of talents.

Seconds pass. Minutes. Still no sign of John.

Dean knows he´s watching, though. Can feel his skin prickle under his father´s heavy gaze, and Jesus, fuck, he´s going to jerk off to this for _weeks._

All he can think of is John, hiding in the shadows with his dick straining against his jeans, jealousy burning through him as he watches Dean suck another man´s cock. He´d be trembling, no doubt, all fury and held-back violence, and Dean knows, he just _knows_ , that this is the day he´ll make John _break_ , make him throw caution to the wind and finally _take_.

The thought alone is too much, almost enough to do Dean in, and he has to drop a hand down between his own legs, squeeze his dick in a way that makes his eyes roll back, his moan muffled around a mouthful of cock.

“Easy,” the guy above him hisses, and Dean lets himself be pulled back, dick slipping out of his mouth and painting his cheek sticky wet.

Dean swallows, takes a minute to admire the shiny mess he´s made, his fist sliding through spit and pre-come when he gives the guy a few slow strokes.

Dad´s bigger, Dean thinks, _knows_ that John is, that he´d need practice so deep-throat John like this, lips and throat burning from the stretch. God, he wants it so bad it hurts.

“Shit, baby, c´mon.” Business Guy pleads and Dean smiles up at him, licks his lips and opens his mouth, prepared to draw him back deep and finally make him shoot his load, swallow it all down and show his Dad exactly what he´s missing.

He doesn´t get that far.

The moan the guy gives when he´s slammed up the alley wall by John Winchester is fundamentally different to the ones Dean just pulled out of him just seconds ago. Surprise, anger, fear. Mostly, shock.

“Get your fucking hands off my son!”

Dean can´t remember the last time John´s voice shook with that much fury. He´s terrifying, looming over the guy like an avenging god straight out of one of Bobby´s books.

Business Guy is trying to say something, but only manages to croak out hurt little sounds, hands grabbing uselessly at John´s forearm that is pressing against his throat and cutting off his air, toes trying and failing to find any purchase on the dirty street below.

It´s ten different kinds of hot and does nothing at all to improve the situation in Dean´s already uncomfortably tight jeans.

“Give me one, _one_ , good reason not to cut your dick off right here and now!” John snarls, not even waiting for an answer before snapping his favorite switchblade wide open, the sharp knife gleaming dangerously in the low light of the alley.

The way the guy´s eyes bulge out at that, Dean´s sure he´s going to pass out any minute now.

“P-please, I - “

“Shut your fucking mouth, you sick little -“ John breaks off, the tense line of his shoulders trembling with barley checked violence. He´s five seconds away from slitting the guys throat and all three of them know it.

"Dad?" Dean tries, not all that keen on disposing of yet another goddamn body tonight. "It´s okay, you can let him go. He´s not worth the trouble.”

John doesn´t twitch, no sign that he even heard Dean.

They balance right at the edge of disaster for another five seconds, and then, John steps back even though it takes him some visible effort, knife still in his hand, but no longer ready to strike.

Business Guy crumbles to the floor in a mess of limbs, chest heaving with panicked breaths. He looks all kinds of ridiculous, soft cock hanging out of his jeans, his face somehow both deadly pale and angry red all at once.

Yeah, Dean thinks idly, it probably _is_ kinda difficult to stay hard when John fucking Winchester is at your throat, threatening to cut your balls off.

“Leave.” His father orders, as if on cue, the deadly calm of his voice even more terrifying than the anger from seconds ago. “And if you ever touch another kid, if you ever even _think_ about it, I´m going to come back and cut your pathetic dick off.”

Without waiting for a reply, John turns around to face Dean, stares him down with the full force of his anger, something dark shifting in his gaze.

Suddenly, Dean is only too aware of the state he´s in, whole face sticky with drool and jizz, his lips swollen and raw, used.

He licks his lips and John´s jaw twitches, hands balling into fists so tight, Dean swears he can hear his bones shift against each other.

“We´ll talk when we get home.” John rasps, tone of his voice daring Dean to protest. Unfuckinglikely, Dean´d much rather keep his balls, thank you very much.

“Yes, Daddy,” he says instead and gets up, trying for sweet and obedient, like he didn´t just have another man´s dick down his throat, and missing the mark by a mile with how fucked out and wrecked he sounds.

It draws another low growl out of John, and Dean makes it about two steps before his father´s hand closes around his neck hard enough to leave bruises, and then he´s being dragged back to the Impala at a pace that doesn´t even give him time to check and see if Business Guy has already made it out of the alley.

Baby´s parked about two blocks down, well-hidden in the darkest part of the street, right on the edge of the residential area. She´s waiting for them, serene and beautiful as always, and the sight of her alone is enough to calm some of the jittery excitement that has settled deep in Dean´s bones.

He nearly stumbles when John loosens his hold on his neck, immediately missing the weight of it, but he catches himself and watches as John stalks towards the car to unlock her, turning back to Dean with eyes that are still dark and narrowed with rage.

There´s a tremor in John´s shoulders, heated tension in the air, and Dean´s instincts are all fucked up, no way to tell if it´s violence or want burning in his father´s eyes. Not like it fucking matters, because it makes him want to drop to his knees all the same, makes him want to beg – for John´s fist or his cock, Dean doesn´t really know.

John moves before Dean can make up his mind, takes a step back and jerks open the door to the backseat, hand gripping the metal so tight, Dean wouldn´t be surprised to find it dented come morning.

“What are you waiting for? Get the fuck in there!” John snarls when Dean hesitates for a second too long, and Dean hurries to obey, knowing from experience that this tone of voice should better not be ignored.

He scrambles onto the backseat, jumping when the door slams shut behind them, and then John´s on him, pressed so close that Dean can feel the heat of his body, the anger pouring off of him in waves.

“Damn it, boy,“ John whispers hotly, more to himself than to Dean, and Dean doesn´t dare move, doesn´t dare _breathe_ , so close to finally getting what he´s wanted for years that he´s dizzy with it, all drunk on possibilities and the taste of whiskey on John´s breath.

They´re staring at each other, unblinking and breathless, and Dean feels himself grow hard again under his father´s gaze. He wants to push his hips up into John´s, wants to be touched so bad, but John´s still motionless, conflicted, _still_ fighting this, and suddenly, Dean´s had enough.

Acting on an impulse he´s kept buried for years, Dean lifts his hand and wraps it around the heavy bulge of John´s erection, gently squeezing it just to feel the weight, and John makes a sound like he´s dying, desperate and hurt and a little feral. His eyes drop down, staring at Dean´s hand working his cock like he can´t quite believe it, and Dean feels him twitch against his palm, feels him grow even harder.

“Fuck,” John croaks, and surges forward, “Fuck,” again, smeared against Dean´s lips, and then Dean´s being kissed, being _claimed_ , rough, near violent, John´s tongue in his mouth and his father´s hands on his hips, holding him down and tearing him apart.

Dean moans and grabs John´s jacket with both hands, clawing at it until he finds some purchase. He tries to kiss back, tries to hold his own, but his Dad is just too good at this, doesn´t give him any chance but to lay back and take it, surrender and wait for whatever comes next.

“You´re such a fucking tease,” John grits out and bites down on the long column of Dean´s throat, beard scratching against his skin. “Stalking around like you´re all grown up, when you don´t even know what you´re asking for.”

He grabs Dean´s shirts and pulls them up, latches onto a nipple with lips and teeth until Dean´s crying out, hands flying into his father´s hair to pull him closer, push him away.

“Fu -“ he tries to say, breaks off with a moan, hips lifting off the backseat in desperate search for some friction, but John doesn´t let him, traps him with an arm across Dean´s hips and a bite to his chest.

“That what you wanted, boy?” John snarls, and before Dean knows what´s happening he´s being turned around and pressed face first into the leather, his father´s hands working his belt and zipper open and pulling his jeans down and off, leaving him shivering and naked, embarrassed and so fucking turned on, he can´t even remember how to speak.

John grabs his ass without warning, calloused hands on both cheeks squeezing first, then pulling him open. There´s a garbled curse and Dean nearly comes off the seat when John leans in and licks right across his hole, slow and teasing and better than anything Dean has ever felt.

“Keep it down,” John orders against Dean´s skin and then buries his whole face in Dean´s ass, eating it out like it´s pussy and he´s never tasted anything sweeter.

Dean bites his own forearm to keep the sounds in, but it´s no fucking use, he´s babbling and he knows it, can hear himself beg and whimper and moan, curses and _ohmygods_ and _pleasepleasepleasedads_ that he´ll probably be ashamed of come morning.

“So fucking tight,” John tells him and Dean can feel him press a finger against his rim, idly circling it before he´s pushing all the way in, and Dean chokes a little and fucks his hips back, wanting more but unsure how to ask for it.

By the time his father´s got two thick fingers in his ass, Dean´s thighs are trembling so hard that John has to wrap an arm around his waist to keep his hips up, and he´s so fucking ready to come that he can´t focus on anything else, every thought going fuzzy with pleasure.

“Gonna come for me, Dean?” John asks between kisses and crooks his fingers a bit, rubs them right over Dean´s sweet spot, and something in Dean just _breaks_ , like a dam bursting open, whole body locking up, and he comes so hard he´s seeing stars, might’ve even passed out for a moment.

Next thing he knows, he´s on his back again, John kneeling between his legs, petting him and whispering praise against his skin.

His father´s wrist is still working between his legs, and Dean feels filthy, spread wide open and wet like a girl, each push of John´s fingers making a disgusting little sound that goes straight to his dick.

“God, you need it so bad, don´t you?” John growls and sucks another bruise into Dean´s neck, free hand fumbling with his own belt and zipper, pushing his jeans down, freeing his cock. “Gonna let me fuck you, Dean?

 _God, yes, please_ , Dean wants to say, but what comes out is a needy little whine, all desperate, because that´s when John pulls his fingers free, leaving Dean empty and open and wanting.

John shushes him and grabs his hips, pulls him right into his lap and fuck, _fuck_ , Dean can feel it, the blunt pressure of his father´s cock right against his hole, pressing in just a little, just enough to make his muscles flutter, make Dean beg for more.

John grins, feral and dark, shifts his hips and Dean feels his muscles give, cries out when John pushes halfway in at once. It´s good, so good, somewhere between pleasure and pain and every shade between, and Dean´s drunk on it already, a fucking addict after half a shot.

“Dad,” Dean croaks, chocking when John slides in another inch or two , slowly working himself deeper, carving out room for himself in Dean´s guts until he´s all the way in and Dean has no more room to give.

“Shh, sweetheart, you´re doing so good.” John praises, and Dean´s shaking, so full of cock he forgets how to breathe, convinced he´ll come the moment he does.

Then, his father starts to move, an experimental thrust that has both of them moaning out loud, sweetest kind of torture, but it does the trick, Dean´s breathing again, panting as he tries to adjust to the feeling of his father moving inside of him.

They´re picking up speed and Dean tilts his hips up for more, lets John guide him until they´re in sync, moving together like they do on a hunt, every bit as violent, every bit as deadly.

Baby´s rocking with them, groaning with every thrust like Dean does, her leather sticking to his sweaty skin, hugging him tight. John shifts, angles his hips and his next thrust hits that one spot that has Dean gasping and his cock drooling all over his stomach, adding to the mess that´s already there.

“Yeah, Dean, just like that,” John growls and kisses him again, slips a finger into Dean´s mouth right along with his tongue and makes him suck off his own mess. “You gonna come on my cock, kiddo?” He grinds in deep, right where Dean needs him, and Dean´s shaking for real now, claws at his father´s back and makes helpless little noises that sound slutty to his own ears.

John fucks back in, wraps a tight fist around Dean´s cock, and Dean´s gone, coming hard for the second time this night, his cries muffled against his father´s mouth. Distantly, he´s aware that John´s rhythm turns frantic, but he´s too boneless to do more than just lie there and take it, the push and pull of his father´s cock against his insides almost painful with how oversensitive he is.

Dean whimpers, begs, “Please, Daddy,” in a fucked-out voice that sounds nothing like his own, and watches as John shudders and comes, slamming in so deep that Dean can feel their bones grind together. John curses and pulls back, pulls _out_ , milks his cock right over Dean´s clenching hole and rubs the head all over the mess he´s made, lazily slipping in and out until he´s done shaking.

“Jesus, Dean,” he groans finally, a kind of awe in his voice Dean has never heard before, but it lights him up all the same, makes his heart clench and his cheeks burn, heat spreading further down his chest when John starts thumbing over his hole, feeding his come back inside and teasing at Dean´s swollen rim.

“Fuck,” Dean says, throws his head back into Baby, and John laughs and slaps his ass, tells him, “Maybe later, kiddo, gotta get you back to Sammy first.”

Dean does get another kiss, though, gets another hungry look when he finally gets back up on shaky knees, and John catches a glimpse of his come dripping down Dean´s thighs.

“They´re not gonna touch you again.” John promises against his mouth and there´s real murder in his eyes this time, a promise of violence that goes straight to Dean´s dick. “Gonna make sure of that.”

“Never,” Dean whispers back, plan already forming, and ducks his head down to hide his grin in John´s sweaty neck. "I´m all yours, Daddy."


End file.
